Melancholy Hyperbole

Poetry about longing.


You come through the front door now,
reach down to hug the dog,
look up at me with a shrug. What else
is there to do?
I hold my arms at my sides, like some shy
audience member called on stage
by Letterman, but their nerves vibrate
as if two phantom limbs are reaching out.
They think you’re still my wife,
can feel your charge,
the alternating current,
there and not there.
Margaret DMargaret DeRitter is a freelance writer and editor living in Kalamazoo, Michigan, with her dog, Murray. She worked as a full-time journalist for 30 years. Her poetry has appeared in Scarlet Literary Magazine and Encore Magazine.

Categories: LGBTQ+, Poetry, Themed

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s